


devils don't fly little angel

by brokenmoonwing



Category: The Turning (2020)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Biting, Blood Kink, Bruises, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, F/M, Forest Sex, Light Masochism, Light Sadism, Master/Pet, Multiple Orgasms, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Safewords
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:42:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27537775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenmoonwing/pseuds/brokenmoonwing
Summary: an aged up x-reader in which Miles is your dominant and you are his submissive. involves rough forest sex and using your safe word with adorably sweet after affects. short and sweet but bloody for you biting lovers out there
Relationships: Miles Fairchild/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	devils don't fly little angel

“Miles! Miles!” you chase after him as he wanders into the forest of bly manor. You grasp his wrist, only for him to swiftly turn and meet your gaze. Cold eyes softening the very slightest at yours. Today you wear his signature crimson sweater with a back skirt, red eye make-up and plump lips accentuating the hues further. Pretty little Cinderella slippers hide your feet, love bites and bruises gloss the look. Your thighs tremble as his dark chocolate eyes bore into you.   
“Why’re you so whiny doll?” he smirks, pulling you deeper into the forest. He drags you along for several achingly long minutes. Stopping momentarily to yank an old quilt from a tree hollow. Miles forces you against an ancient willow tree, you whimper hushedly. Slamming your legs together in an attempt to gain some friction. His hand travels down your body, slowing at your breasts, he fiddles with sweater irritatedly.   
“Godman you mutt, why do you always steal my shit.” he curses into your neck, sinking his teeth into the most sensitive part of your collarbone. Causing you to yelp and squirm under him. He finally slips his sweater off of you, your breasts falling into the cold air, calling attention to themselves. His lips hungrily attack your breasts, allowing you no time to adjust. Leaving a new bruise with each kiss. One arm slipping to your waist, he roughly pulls your body to his. The other switching between each of your nipples, you moan under the expertise of his thumbs. A kitten’s purr compared to what is to come.   
“Be patient my pup, your master will take care of you” he pulls away, messily spreading the quilt onto the ground, throwing you onto the forest floor. A smirk splayed across his features, he unbuckles his belt, stripping for his pants. His boxers abandoned as well.  
“P-please master,”   
“Please what pup?” he cocks a brow, his foot slipping between your legs. Flipping your skirt up to expose your soaking cunt. He puts a finger to his cheek, tutting loudly. You screw your eyes shut, only to be met with his lips. Which are tender and soft to start, his raven curls tickling your forehead. He takes your hand, clenching it before biting down on your lower lip,  
He drops your lip as it begins to bleed, his fingertips ghosting your entrance. You fight back a whimper as he plunges the tip of his middle finger inside, latching his lips onto yours again.His slender fingers spread your hole, middle finger delving deeper into your pussy, you moan into his mouth.his finger leave your hole and he slaps your clit lightly  
“Now kitten you wouldn’t want anyone seeing your master ruining his little whore now would you?” he tuts again, three more fingers take you by surprise. His digits spread you with a wet pop noise, followed by the darkest of chuckles. The edges of his nails rake your walls as he pulls them out again. Semi cleaning them with his tongue, he shoves them into your mouth. You arch into him, his cock brushing against your entrance.   
This time the both of you let out soft groans, removing his hand from your mouth to slide under your back. Holding your back arched, he yanks your head to the side by your hair. his lips latch onto your neck, he enters you fully, thrusting impatiently. You bite back a moan, your legs wrapping around his waist. He stops dead, mid-thrust.   
“Drop your legs,” he commands, his hand squeezes your throat like a trigger. You whimper in protest, a whisper to his roar.   
“Who’s in charge here angel?” he growls in your ear, grip tightening.   
“You a-re s-sir.”   
“Then act like it”  
“Yessir”  
“Does my angel need her wings clipped?”   
“No sir” you drop your legs from his hips, he proceeds to pound into you. So harshly you assume he’s stabbed through your uterus and is hitting your other organs. Et as he slams into you he hits your g-spot perfectly every time. His hands aid you in grinding your hips against his, while he assaults your lips with his. Your soft mewls and whimpers grow louder with each of his thrusts, a familiar knot growing in the pit of your stomach.   
Miles takes notice of this, slowing his pace agonizingly, with a growl his patience disappears, thrusts speeding up once more. You choke at the sudden harshness,eyes glossing over with tears. Miles smirks, showing off his clean white canines.   
“A-re we fl-flying?” you when in a fucked out gasp, he never falters, wild raven curls striking to his sweat soaked forehead. He locks eyes with you,lustful as ever, he chuckles wolfishly.   
“Silly angel, you know devils don’t fly” miles’ palm cups your cheek, your lips parting in one last whine. Your wales clamp down around him like a vice, his orgasm following close behind. Continuesly fucking you up, orgasm after orgasm, driving you to be a crying, squirming mess.  
“M-master n-no more-” your nails scrape his back ruthlessly, new tears falling from your eyes as your sixth orgasm hits you. He sinks his teeth into your pale collarbone, drawing deep crimson blood. In a hoarse voice you murmur quietly.   
“Spiders”   
“Spiders?” Miles pulls out of you, chocolate eyes uncharacteristically soft. Holding you close and kissing your swollen lips. Lapping the blood from a few of your bites.   
“You did so good for your master” he hauls you to your feet, wrapping an arm around your waist when you stumble. Searching for his discarded sweater, returning to help you dress. Tucking the crimson red into your skirt as it had been before, Cinderella flats once again adorning your feet. Adjusting himself to slip his pants back on followed by his shirt.   
The two of you make the trek back to the manor, leaning into each other for support. Greeted by two silent butlers, a blushing maid and a snickering teen flora.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed, if you did leave a comment or Kudos. for more you can follow me. <3 :)


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